


Body Swap

by CallistoNicol



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Body Swap, F/M, Sifki - Freeform, highly original title, someone help me because these two are killing me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-14
Updated: 2018-12-14
Packaged: 2019-09-18 00:04:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16984344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CallistoNicol/pseuds/CallistoNicol
Summary: They've swapped bodies and it's definitely all Sif's fault. Loki might find it an educational experience if he wasn't so concerned with regaining his own skin before Sif wreaks havoc in his name, or worse, discovers how he really feels about her.





	Body Swap

Loki carefully turned the page of his book, ignoring Sif as she once again explained in great and exacting detail how, during her duel with Hogun, she threw him into the mud and bested the wily Vanir. It had to be the sixth time this week alone she retold the event, and while Loki was willing to listen with rapt attention to the first retelling, by the time they were approaching the twentieth retelling, he was so far past bored she was lucky he hadn’t cut off his ears and gifted them to her so she could continue yammering at him while he lived in peace.

 

And she was lucky. Were she any other, he would have cast an illusion doing just that simply to enjoy the reaction, but he had a soft spot for Sif and was trying to remain in her mostly good graces, on the off chance she ever decided she also had a soft spot for him.

 

Three quarters down the page, his finger stopped tracking as he finally located what he needed. _Agrostis stolonifera_. “Common grass?” he murmured. Of course he wouldn’t have considered using that for his spell. All great enchantments made use of will power or items exceedingly rare. For common grass to be the missing ingredient was almost insulting.

 

But who Loki to argue with ancient arcane spellbooks?

 

With a wave of his fingers, his spell plucked several blades of grass from outside, materializing instantly in his hand. “Grass? Really?” Sif asked, amused. “Has the mighty Loki fallen so far as to use the plant specifically designed to be trodden upon?”

 

“One does not question the wisdom of the ancients,” Loki murmured.

 

Sif hooted. “You question the wisdom of everything! It was your tutors’ prime complaint.”

 

“My tutors had not written detailed spells which have survived millennia.”

 

Uncrossing her legs from where they dangled over the arm of his reading chair, Sif hopped down and joined Loki at his book, placing one hand on his shoulder. He ignored the tingles racing down his arm. “Show me the product of this wisdom.”

 

A chance to show off, his favorite thing. Placing the grass in the center of his palm, Loki levitated it as he said the incantation. A bright flash of light and concussive boom resulted, throwing Loki and Sif backward where they slammed into the wall. Loki saw stars in the back of his eyes.

 

With a groan, he tried sitting up, but his center of gravity was not where he expected it to be and he overshot, pitching forward. He nearly faceplanted again, barely bringing his hands forward to break his fall. Except they weren’t his hands, they were Sif’s. How had she managed to get under him so quickly?

 

“Bloody hell,” a deep voice rumbled behind him. That was not Sif’s voice. The misfiring spell must have affected their vocal chords. “Maybe grass wasn’t the correct ingredient.”

 

Sitting up, it took Loki a moment to realize Sif’s hands were still there, resting gently on his thighs. Except they weren’t his thighs. He may not be as broad and thick as Thor, but he also wasn’t femininely small. Twisting sharply, he looked at Sif and was horrified to find himself looking into a mirror.

 

“Do tell me what just happened isn’t what I think happened,” he said in Sif’s musical voice.

 

His own eyes widened as they stared at him. “Why are you wearing my face?” Loki’s voice asked. “And why do I sound like you? Bloody hell, Loki, what did you do!”

 

Excellent question. Had he misspoken the spell? Used the wrong ingredient? Or had Sif’s touch on his shoulder somehow affected his magic? The only way to answer that question would be to recreate the experiment, rather difficult as he was now in a mostly non-magical body. He could feel Sif’s measly magic, so miniscule in comparison to his own. Holding up his hand, he tried a simple spell for holding fire. The air sparked above his palm, but that was it. “How do you live like this?” he demanded. “So much power floating around for the taking, and you can’t even start a fire.”

 

“Is that what this strange entity is I feel beneath my skin?” Sif asked. “It feels like a river of water bursting to get out, if only it could find a hole through which to squeeze.”

 

An interesting comparison, but not inaccurate. “We must return to our bodies at once,” he said. “I do not fancy living as someone who wishes to be beat up for fun.”

 

“I give as good as I get,” Sif told him. “Assist me up, will you?” She reached for his hand, but the instant their fingers touched, she yanked hers back. “What was that?” she asked, shocked.

 

“A failed attempt to stand?”

 

“Not that,” Sif said, shaking her head. “I mean that tingle when we touched. What was it? Residual magic?”

 

“Yes,” Loki promptly lied. He was so used to responding to her touch that it hardly registered anymore, but he could not have anticipated the reaction, which was tied to his body, would ever be experienced by someone else wearing his skin.

 

It wasn’t official, but the same way everyone knew Odin was all powerful, even if they’d never met him and there was historical evidence to the contrary, all of Asgard knew Sif was meant for Thor. Loki could not allow her to discover his latent feelings for her. It would be humiliating for both of them, and he might lose her as a constant companion.

 

Sif jerked back suddenly, staring down. “What was _that?_ ”

 

He really did not wish to explain the differences in male and female anatomy. Hurrying to distract her, Loki grabbed Sif’s hand--it was a truly bizarre experience to think that while technically grabbing his own hand--and hauled her to her feet, dragging her to their original positions. “Quickly, recite the incantation,” he said. “We must reverse this spell before any permanent damage is done.” He had absolutely no evidence their condition was permanent or could do damage, but she did not need to know that.

 

“Don’t I need grass?” she asked.

 

Instinctively, Loki reached out to procure some, but as he was not wearing his own body, Sif’s lack of magic caused his actions to fail. “How do you live with such limited reach?” he growled, then ordered, “Stay here while I acquire grass.” The last thing he wanted was her wandering around Asgard wearing his body. What a disaster that would be.

 

“I do not think so,” Sif said, moving to intercept him. “You are not wandering around wearing my body. That scowl on your face alone will alert everyone that mischief is afoot. We go together or we remain here indefinitely.”

 

Remaining tied to Sif’s side while going about life was Loki’s preferred way to live, making her solution perfectly acceptable. “Agreed. If anyone looks like they wish to speak to us, lift your hand as if you’re casting a spell. The peasants will scatter like pigeons.”

 

It was odd, watching his face rolls its eyes. Did he always look like an insufferable peabrain when doing it? He might have to rethink that particular motion. “Is that how you always manage to be alone?” Sif asked, pushing him towards the door. He had expected her smaller stature to stumble, but Sif’s body was hale and strong and absorbed most of the impact. He appreciated the coiled power in her muscles, waiting to be unleashed. She was a powerhouse. Was this how Thor always felt? “Stop thinking about my body,” Sif said. “I dislike that look upon your--my--face.”

 

Walking out the door, he said, “I’m merely admiring your stature. I did not previously have an adequate appreciation of the physical prowess you possess. I feel I could punch a stone wall and come out the victor.”

 

“Try it, and I’ll do the same with your delicate scholar’s hand,” she threatened, then added, “though yes, I would come out the victor.”

 

He truly was a handsome fellow when he smirked. Good to know.

 

Five steps into their journey, Loki halted. “What in Odin’s name are you doing?” he demanded, utterly aghast.

 

“What are you complaining about now?” Sif said, turning to face him as she planted her (his) fists on her (his) hips. That was not a good look on him.

 

“Your walk,” he said. “You look like a woman.”

 

“Do we need a biology lesson?” Sif said. “I _am_ a woman, a fact you never seem to be aware of.”

 

“No, _I_ am currently a woman,” Loki said. “ _You_ are a man and you are not walking like one.”

 

“Fine then, Your Walking Highness. Show me how to do it.”

 

Starting forward, Loki confidently glided down the hallway, only to stop halfway at the sound of a braying laugh coming out of his mouth. He did _not_ sound like that. “What is _that_!” Sif cried, leaning against the wall as tears of mirth gathered in the corners of her eyes. “That loping stride makes you look like some sort of, I don’t know, peacock or Midgardian athlete.” She slid down the wall until Loki’s body was curled in upon itself, laughing. Loki scowled viciously at his erstwhile friend.

 

“I’ve no idea what you mean,” he said coldly.

 

“Clearly,” she hooted.

 

“By all means, Lady Sif, demonstrate how I _should_ be walking.”

 

It took a moment for her to respond, between her hiccuping laughs and wiping tears from her eyes. “I think I already did,” she said, grin stretched tightly across her face. His face. This was an unnerving conversation to have with her-himself.

 

“So we are both miserable at imitating each other,” he said. “We shall simply have to avoid running into anyone else.”

 

“Yes, because that is so easy to do in a crowded palace.”

 

“Other suggestions? I could just think about walking around hitting things. Surely that would get me in the proper Lady Sif headspace.”

 

Getting to her feet, Sif said, “So I should think about making mischief and ignoring all edicts sent my way? Or perhaps focus on having an inferiority complex?”

 

“I do not have--”

 

“Right, right. Focus on ignoring the fact that I have an inferiority complex.”

 

Loki scowled at her. “Then should I focus on my inadequacies since being a woman guarantees I’ll never be as strong as my male counterparts?”

 

Sif pursed her lips. “This may not be the best avenue to explore.”

 

“Agreed.”

 

In the end, they decided to link arms and blame any imperfections in their gait on the fact they were holding onto each other. It was a unique experience. Loki hadn’t been this short since he was a youth, and he immensely disliked having to look up to meet Sif’s eyes. He also kept misstepping because his stride wasn’t as long as he was used to. Perhaps instead of blaming each other for their poor walking performance, they should tell any passersby they were drunk.

 

They were two corridors and an intersection from outside when Fandral found them. “Sif!” cried the jovial warrior. Excluding Sif, Fandral was probably Loki’s favorite of Thor’s Cronies Three, but that was when he was wearing his own skin. “Don’t do or say anything stupid,” Sif hissed at him.

 

“Have you met me?” Loki muttered in response.

 

“Sif, I’ve been looking all over for you,” Fandral said, moving around the pair to face them. “Volstagg and I--why are you holding on to Loki?”

 

Loki smiled sweetly at Fandral. “There’s just something magnetic about him, and I thought I ought to give romancing him a try. He’s unbearably handsome, you know.” Sif stomped on his foot. Gritting his teeth against the shooting pain, he bared his teeth at Sif and said, “What, haven’t you looked in a mirror lately? Your pale skin perfectly contrasts with your gleaming dark hair, and your blue eyes are deep pools of--”

 

“Whether you are joking or being sincere, please stop,” Fandral interrupted. “I just ate, and Loki, mate, as much as I love you, I’d rather not have your charms listed.” Maneuvering himself so he was standing next to Loki, whom he thought was Sif, Fandral flung an arm around Loki’s shoulders. “Sif, some green trainee insulted our illustrious leader, so we’ve challenged him to a three-on-one duel, and like a sniveling mongrel he accepted, convinced he can beat us. Hogun bowed out due to not agreeing to the fight in the first place, so we need you to come defend Thor’s honor.” The way Fandral said Thor’s name reminded Loki, once again, that everyone assumed Sif was sweet on his brother (which she probably was, but Loki was busy ignoring that bit of potential fact).

 

“Sif can’t. She’s busy,” Sif said, pulling Loki closer.

 

“Sif can speak for herself,” Fandral said.

 

“Yes, Sif can speak for herself,” Loki said.

 

Sif gave Loki a pointed look. “And Sif, when she speaks for herself, is going to admit that as much as she’d enjoy putting a young upstart in his place, she has a date to pick grass.”

 

If it weren’t for the fact that accepting Fandral’s offer meant leaving Sif in Loki’s own body, he was sorely tempted to accept. Imagine the havoc he could wreak in the name of the shieldmaiden. Unfortunately, Sif could wreak equal amounts of havoc in his body, and since he was a prince of the realm, Loki was held to a higher standard of conduct than she was. Not that he often followed it, but he would have a devil of a time undoing her mischief. Getting himself out of his own naughtiness was one thing, but to undo her actions was a headache he did not volunteer for.

 

Pouting, an emotion Sif rarely, if ever, showed, Loki gave Fandral his best innocent eyes and said, “Unfortunately, Loki is correct and I have promised my assistance to him.”

 

“Hm,” Fandral said, eyeing them suspiciously.

 

“Yes, and we really must get going,” Sif said, tugging Loki along. “Defend Thor’s honor for me!”

 

The second they were out of earshot, Loki snapped, “I would _never_ say that.”

 

“And I would never say a man’s eyes were deep pools of anything.”

 

It had been a bit much to hope for.

 

Rounding the last corner, the exit in sight, Loki started picking up the pace just as Sif hissed and pushed him back against the wall. Someone was coming; Loki could hear footsteps. That’s all he had time to process before Sif threw herself over him and kissed him.

 

Stunned, Loki forgot at first to respond, but damned if he was going to miss his one and only opportunity to kiss Sif. Responding to her frenzied moves, he wished he could enjoy the experience, except one thought prevailed above all others.

 

“I just kissed myself,” he panted when she pulled back.

 

“Are they gone?” Sif asked, looking around the now deserted corridor.

 

“I just kissed myself,” Loki repeated.

 

“And I me,” Sif said. “I’ve always thought I’d be a delight to kiss, and now I know I am.”

 

“I _kissed_ myself.”

 

“Don’t sound so upset; admit it, you’ve always thought you were a superior specimen and particularly adept at kissing, and now you know you’re right.”

 

Loki looked up at her. “Do I know that?” he said. “Or do I know kissing you in my body was the superior act?” He sighed dramatically. “Unfortunately, I’ll never be able to kiss myself independent of you and find out which of us is better at utilizing my lips.”

 

“I don’t even know what to say to that,” Sif said.

 

Moving toward the exit, Loki said, “You do realize you just started a host of rumors. I’ll be betraying my brother by nightfall, and in the morning the whole realm will know Thor has been jilted by his true love. Half of Asgard will be calling for blood by week’s end, while the other half will be demanding a tribunal to assure I didn’t force myself on you.”

 

“Technically I forced myself on you,” Sif said, a small smile playing at her lips.

 

“You could say it ‘til you’re blue in the face, but due to the fine disguise you are wearing, not a soul will believe you,” Loki informed her, which didn’t bother her in the slightest.

 

Outside, Loki collected fistfuls of grass, stuffing his pockets and Sif’s in case the spell needed to be cast more than once. He was hard-pressed not to stare at his face while he worked. He’d never seen himself in the sun before, and was fascinated by the highlights in his hair. His skin looked translucent, his blue veins standing out; he cut a striking figure. Sif was lucky to spend so much time with him. In addition to being an excellent conversationalist, he was more than pleasant to look at. Perhaps that was why she sought out his company so often? He could certainly pretend so.

 

“Do I always look so serious when I’m concentrating?” Sif asked.

 

“Usually, yes. One does not associate mirth with the Lady Sif unless she has intentionally smiled, and even then, it’s with a healthy dose of terror. You’re quite fearsome, Sif.”

 

“It helps intimidate those who would question my place,” Sif said. “But I do know how to laugh.” She said this with enough sincerity Loki knew it must be a sore spot. This confession was to be treated earnestly and not with his usual jesting.

 

“I have provoked your laugh often enough to know that, Sif,” he said, a touch softer than normal.

 

Her quiet smile made his heart sing.

 

“Are you certain your heart is functional?” Loki asked, returning to their usual banter. “Every time I try to have an emotion, your body does not respond as it should. Is this natural, or have you trained your outer shell to feel nothing?”

 

She socked him in the shoulder, which did not hurt as much as he would have expected. Either Sif’s strength cushioned the blow, or Loki was laughably weak. “You feel too much,” she said. “The tiniest stray thought provokes response from your entire body. How do you walk around feeling so much?”

 

“I usually ignore it.” She gave him a flat look. “What?” he said. “It’s worked out marvelously these many centuries.” She rolled her eyes, and he grinned at her. Changing the subject, he asked, “Why did you kiss me back there?”

 

Eyes twinkling with amusement, she said, “Are you asking if I find you attractive?”

 

“I’m asking what sparked such an unprovoked attack upon my poor lips.”

 

“ _My_ lips.”

 

“That does not make it any better.”

 

Looking skyward, she replied, “I saw someone who could benefit from seeing me place my affections on someone he has no hope of besting.” She did not further elaborate, and Loki did not ask. He understood well enough. He might not be a woman trying to make it in a man’s world, but he was a scholar trying to make it in a warrior’s world. He knew well the ridicule one endured in such a situation, especially when it came to comments about one’s preferences and submissiveness. Being the best in his field did not gain him equal status to even the lowest warrior, though as a prince, he was sheltered in a way Sif was not.

 

Still. “Feel free to use me any time,” he told her, then smirked. She punched his shoulder again, laughing.

 

Linking arms once again, they made their way back to Loki’s rooms. Sif did not push him against the wall and kiss him again, though Loki was tempted to do it to her a time or two. Had anyone stopped them, he would have, but sadly, no one interfered.

 

People were so useless. They approached him when he wished to be left alone, and avoided him when he needed their presence as excuse to kiss the most magnificent woman Loki had ever known.

 

Back in his rooms, Loki dropped grass into Sif’s open hand and said, “We must recreate but invert the spell.”

 

“How do I invert a spell?” she asked.

 

“Did you not pay attention to your magic tutors?” Her pointed look was answer enough. “It’s a matter of will,” he said. “You must levitate the grass while saying the spell, but will it to invert and reverse, therefore undoing the effects.”

 

Squaring her shoulders, Sif said, “Let’s hope there’s muscle memory in this body of yours, because I’ve no idea how to accomplish what you just said.”

 

“Just relax and do it,” he told her, moving to her other side and placing his hand on her (his) shoulder just as she had done to him moments before the disastrous spell. “Casting magic is as easy for me as breathing. I’ve been known to cast my share of spells in my sleep, it’s so second nature.”

 

Nodding, Sif focused on the fistful of grass, staring intently at it. A moment passed, then two, then ten. Nothing happened. “...Sif?” Loki prodded gently.

 

“Silence. I’m concentrating,” she snapped, her intent stare morphing into a glare.

 

Loki counted to ten once more before speaking again. “Sif--”

 

“Concentrating!”

 

“And doing nothing. I can levitate any object without thinking about it, so if you are pouring this much effort into such a simple spell without result, it’s not going to work.”

 

Dropping her hand with a sigh of frustration, Sif let the grass fall to the floor. Loki stared at it, reminding himself that a few grass clippings were not worth chewing her out over. But really, who deposited extra flora on someone else’s floor? “Would you like me to pick it up?” Sif said, her previous frustration gone in the face of her amusement.

 

“Obviously.”

 

“Say please.”

 

He gave her a flat look. “Pick up the damn grass, Sif.”

 

If his smirk was always that insufferable, he was beginning to understand the the reactions he always garnered from others.

 

Crouching down, Sif retrieved the fallen grass and tucked it safely back into her pockets. “Well. I can’t even do a so-called simple levitating spell, so I’m betting the odds aren’t good that I can invert a spell.”

 

“This is what you get for learning how to crack open heads instead of learning basic necessities such as levitating,” Loki said.

 

“What do I need levitation for?” she asked, standing back up. “I’ve always got you around for that.”

 

Thank goodness he hadn’t figured out her body’s blushing mechanism, or his face would be as red as Thor’s cloak. There were some advantages to being stuck in her body after all. “And as I’m still here, I’m going to teach you how to levitate and invert, because as much as I enjoy staring at my own handsome visage, I’d rather look out of it than at it.”

 

“I don’t know,” she mused, “I’ve always enjoyed looking at it.”

 

Once again, Loki was grateful Sif’s body wasn’t prone to blushing. “The mirror’s over there,” he said, pointing behind him, and she laughed.

 

Teaching levitation to a body already used to doing it was surprisingly easy, and Sif picked up on the spell quickly. Loki, on the other hand, couldn’t make Sif’s body levitate so much as a speck of dust. How did she go through life so devoid of magic? He felt like he was missing his arm.

 

Inverting, on the other hand, was an abysmal failure. “It’s tied to will,” he said for the twenty-seventh time. “Just will it so!”

 

“It’s tied to _your_ will,” she snapped, “not mine. It doesn’t matter how badly I want this, I cannot will this spell into existence!”

 

“Yes, you can!” he shouted at her. “That is literally the spell! Just will it into existence!”

 

“I can’t!” she yelled back. “And yelling at me isn’t going to make it so!”

 

Throwing his hands up in frustration, Loki stalked to the window. “You’re impossible,” he said shortly.

 

“Yes, you are,” she retorted. He spun around to see her gesturing to his body.

 

“That is not what I meant.”

 

“Your body, your fault.”

 

“Your inability to do magic, _your_ fault.”

 

“You’re the one who cast the spell in the first place. _Your_ fault.”

 

“You were touching me without invitation while I was casting advanced magic. _Your_ fault.”

 

Throwing herself into the armchair, Sif said, “By the Norns, Volstagg was right. You and I do revert to being children when we’re together.” He snorted, not dignifying that with a response.

 

Several minutes passed in silence before Sif ventured to speak again. “Loki… we have a problem.”

 

“Yes, obviously,” he said peevishly.

 

“Not _that_ problem,” she snapped, shifting. “I think your body needs to relieve itself.”

 

That was a problem, one he’d been hoping to avoid with a quick reversal of the spell. Curse whatever entity found this amusing. “Then go,” he said shortly, knowing the situation was more complicated than that.

 

“I need not remind you how different male and female anatomy is,” Sif said. “You need to offer instruction if you don’t want a mess in your bath.”

 

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Loki said, “It can’t be that difficult to figure out.”

 

“It’s less that it’s difficult and more that I will get to see you in all of your glory, and you don’t have the option of saying no.”

 

“I’m sure I will get to return the uncomfortable favor,” he said drily.

 

Still she continued to sit there, staring at him, until he gave in and asked after what was bothering her. “Do I have to aim?” she asked. “Or can it just...dangle... and get the deed done?”

 

Of all the problems Loki’d anticipated encountering today, this had not been on the list. Avoiding her eyes, he said, “Just sit, and you don’t have to aim,” he said.

 

“Oh no,” Sif said. “This might be my only chance to do this standing up, and I want the experience. Dangle or guidance?”

 

“Bloody hell,” Loki said, smashing his palms into his eyes. “Aim as you would when shooting a bow, and do not, under any circumstances, tell me the outcome.”

 

Several minutes later, Sif returned, saying only, “Hnh.”

 

“I said I don’t want to know!”

 

“Just be grateful I’m not on my monthlies, Odinson, or you’d be getting quite the education.”

 

Loki sent his fervent gratitude to every deity he’d ever heard even a rumor of existing. “You need to practice the spell,” he said hurriedly. “I don’t want an education on living life as Lady Sif, and I don’t want to educate you on living life as Loki Odinson. Practice!”

 

She mockingly saluted him, but sat down and returned to practicing.

 

Ten minutes of failures later, they were interrupted by a heavy pounding on the door. Loki recognized his brother’s knock, and couldn’t quite contain quite contain his groan. “Go away!” he shouted, forgetting momentarily that he wasn’t using his own voice.

 

“Sif?” Thor thundered, and shoved the door open. Loki should have spelled the stupid thing closed--not that he could, as he currently had no access to his magic. “If you’re in here, I know Loki can’t be doing anything important. He doesn’t like an audience when he’s spellcasting.”

 

It was true most of the time, but Loki never minded having Sif around. “What do you want?” he asked, annoyed.

 

Thor raised his eyebrows. “I’m sorry; am I interrupting something?”

 

“Be nice,” Sif-as-Loki admonished.

 

“Are you playing a game?” Thor asked, walking up to them. “Are you pretending to be each other?”

 

“Yes,” Sif said. “It’s surprisingly difficult, but an excellent exercise for the mind. Sif there is absolutely terrible at it.”

 

“I’m not the one kissing innocent bystanders against the wall,” he shot back.

 

“And I’m not the one mocking poor students who are trying their hardest.”

 

“Hardest,” Loki snorted. “Is that what you call the ineptitude you’ve thus far displayed?”

 

“It’s better than shouting ‘Will it! _Will it_!’ at unreceptive ears.”

 

Thor interrupted their argument before it could snowball out of control. “You’re both very good at this,” he said. “Sif, you’ve mastered Loki’s mocking sneer, and Loki, you’ve learned how to politely put someone down. But now we must do damage control. News has already spread through the castle of the kiss you two shared in a very public place. Loki, you know how Father feels about Sif. We need a game plan before we face him.”

 

Ah, yes. It was Odin’s deepest desire the his favorite shieldmaiden should be wed to his favorite son, the second reason Loki had never tried to pursue the lady (the first being she never looked at him as more than a convenient companion with whom to while away the hours. He knew better than to chase after a skirt who did not want him).

 

Sif was busy trying to catch Loki’s eye, unsure as to Thor’s meaning as neither brother had ever shared Odin’s wish with her. But he did not wish to speak of it, so he studiously avoided her gaze and focused instead on Thor. Sif got to navigate these waters by herself.

 

“Uh, suggestions?” Sif said. She made Loki sound like an uncertain adolescent incapable of forming his own opinion.

 

“You could get married,” Thor suggested, and Sif physically recoiled.

 

“What? No!” she said without hesitation.

 

“Yes, because there is nothing worse than being wed to me,” Loki said flatly.

 

“Do not mistake my meaning,” she said sharply.

 

“Believe me, I’m not.”

 

Her jaw worked with words Loki was sure she would not hesitate to share if Thor were absent, making Loki immensely grateful his brother was there.

 

“I could marry Sif,” Thor offered, but was cut off by an equally fervent “What? No!” from Sif, which brightened Loki’s mood considerably.

 

“Well, I’m out of options. Your turn!”

 

The man was entirely too cheerful for Loki’s tastes. He was half convinced Thor was adopted because there was no way they could be related.

 

“Why must we do anything?” Sif asked. “Let’s just wait until Father approaches us.” It was most endearing how she stumbled over addressing Odin as father. Not particularly subtle, and if Frigga were the one standing here instead of Thor, their body swap conundrum would be discovered for certain, but Thor had the observational powers of a blind sloth, so he didn’t even notice Sif’s fumbled words.

 

Striding over to Sif, Thor cried “Capital idea!” and slapped her in the chest. Her eyes flew down to where Thor had hit her as if shocked at his audacity, before quickly covering her expression with a scowl. Loki squinched his eyes in confusion; what was she so upset about? Bringing his own hand up to touch the mirroring spot, he froze as his hand made contact with his decidedly feminine chest.

 

Ah.

 

Hurriedly lowering his hand, he was dismayed to note he’d finally accessed Sif’s blushing capabilities.

 

“Are you all right, brother?” Thor queried. “You look ill.”

 

“My face always looks this way,” Sif said.

 

“Fair point,” Thor said, turning to Loki. “Are you two done with whatever it is you’re doing? I need Sif’s assistance.”

 

“We’re done,” Sif said abruptly. “Please. Take her away.”

 

“Excellent,” Thor said, throwing an arm around Loki’s shoulders and directing him toward the door.

 

“Keep practicing!” Loki called over his shoulder. “I want that skill mastered before I return!”

 

She responded with a rude gesture.

 

Thor’s arm around his shoulders provided a convenient excuse to hide Loki’s awkward gait as he poorly attempted to imitate Sif. Having a lower center of gravity combined with shorter legs was really throwing off his movement. How did Sif walk around always feeling bottom heavy? Were all women created this way? Why didn’t more of them struggle to walk?

 

She had better be practicing that spell. He needed to return to a man’s body immediately.

 

Once they were sufficiently far from Loki’s rooms, Thor spoke. “Tell me, Sif. Did Loki’s unexpected advance cause you any discomfort?”

 

It took Loki a moment to realize his brother was referring to the kiss Sif planted on him. He was going to get in trouble for this, but couldn’t quite convince himself to care. “Oh, no. I’ve been waiting ever so long for him to kiss me. It was the greatest moment of my tiny existence.”

 

“Really?” Thor said, sounding surprised. “I did not realize you felt that way about him.”

 

Ducking his head and attempting to look demure, Loki batted his lashes and said, “Why do you think I always hang around him? It certainly isn’t his sunny disposition.”

 

“Blast,” Thor said. “Fandral was right. I owe him a night at the tavern.”

 

That pulled Loki up short. Fandral actually thought he and Sif were trying to romance each other? That was discomfiting. Loki thought he did a solid job of concealing his feelings, but if Fandral suspected, whose observational skills were only a step above Thor’s, then Loki’s actions were too obvious.

 

“Fear not, we’d never bet over a lady,” Thor said, his grin indicating he did so regularly and with great pleasure.

 

“You’d better not,” Loki said, trying to channel Sif. “You always bet _with_ a lady.”

 

“Which is why we’re off to bet on whether or not Fandral and Volstagg can hold their own against a brand new trainee. The odds are in our favor, though I wouldn’t mind seeing them pummeled.”

 

Their friends could hold their own. It was a meager bet Thor and Loki placed, as no one expected some greenie to defeat two of Asgard’s mightiest warriors, but it was still satisfying to win. It was also surprising to discover how much Sif’s body enjoyed watching a good fight, her veins thrumming with pleasure.

 

Once the recruit was well and truly trounced, and after Volstagg and Fandral were finished receiving their praises, they joined Loki and Thor. “Sif!” Fandral cried. “I thought you and Loki had a grass date and could not join us.”

 

Thor’s whole face lit up at the word _date_ , and he started making suggestive expressions. Loki smirked; Sif was going to kill him later. “We did, but Thor pulled me away, and I cannot say no to the heir of the realm, now, can I?”

 

Dropping into a fighting stance, Fandral sent a few jabs Loki’s way. “You should have joined us!” he said. “A three-on-one thrashing is always more entertaining than a two-on-one.”

 

Loki eyed the moving fists warily. He didn’t fancy discovering how well Sif’s body could take a warrior’s punch.

 

“Tell me, Sif,” Volstagg said, “what is this I hear about Loki kissing you in the hallway?”

 

“It happened,” Loki said nonchalantly.

 

“Come, Sif, don’t be modest,” Thor said. “She told me she has been yearning for his affections for some time now. Apparently my brother was all too happy to oblige.”

 

“Haha, yes!” Fandral cried, pumping a fist in the air. “I told you so, Thor.”

 

“So you did,” Thor said.

 

“Really?” Loki demanded. “How could you possibly have predicted it?”

 

“Simple, really,” Fandral said. “You spend all your spare time with Loki, and every moment you aren’t with him, you complain of him constantly. He’s never thrown you out, to my knowledge, which means he finds your presence more than tolerable. It was only a matter of time before one of you started something.”

 

“You based your entire prediction on evidence as meager as that?” Loki said disbelievingly.

 

“I was right, wasn’t I?”

 

Not really, but Loki wasn’t going to tell him that.

 

“Come, let’s have a celebratory ale,” Thor said. “I’m buying.”

 

Loki did not have a chance to protest as he was swept off with the other three, Volstagg loudly retelling the duel they’d just participated in. This was not a wise idea. Loki didn’t like drinking with his friends in the best of times, safely ensconced in his own skin. To attempt it now, while wearing Sif’s face, Loki did not anticipate great outcomes. Letting the palace think Sif was enamored with Loki was one thing, but if he got drunk while wearing her skin and did anything she disapproved of, he was going to hear about it from now until Valhalla.

 

He tried ducking out from under the various arms supporting him, but every time he made to escape, one of the others pulled him right back in. At the tavern, he tried to beg off drinking, so in response Thor bought him three more mugs of ale. Knowing it was the only way to get them off his back, Loki downed one mug, grateful Asgardian physiology would keep him from getting drunk for some time.

 

Loki rarely visited taverns, finding the raucous crowd distasteful. The rare times he attended he was always in company with Sif and Thor, who made it a competition to see who could best keep him from declaring boredom and escaping with a twist of magic. Not knowing who he really was, Thor saw no need to keep Loki occupied, and since Loki had the magic capabilities of a Midgardian dung beetle, he could not magic himself an escape.

 

Around mug four, Fandral and Volstagg started singing. Kill me now, Loki thought. How did Sif put up with these plebeians?

 

Night had well and truly descended before Loki was allowed to make his escape. He’d imbibed quite a bit of mead; not so much that he lost control of his faculties, but enough that he struggled to make it back to his rooms. He probably should have searched out Sif’s rooms, but damned if he was going to spend the night away from his luxurious four-poster. Any gossiping tongues making note of his destination could wag all century, for all he cared.

 

Inside his rooms, it was disturbing to see his body sprawled across the floor, sound asleep. “I look like I’ve been murdered,” he said aloud. The awkward location of his body far from a comfortable surface indicated Sif had been waiting up for him. He hoped it was to showcase her newfound ability to will a spell into doing as she wished, and not just to chew him out for disappearing for hours. Either way, it would have to wait until morning.

 

He briefly considered toting Sif to bed with him so she wouldn’t get a crick in his neck, but decided against the hassle when he nearly tripped just taking a step. Kicking off his boots, Loki landed facedown on his bed, the exact moment his body decided to inform him it needed to urinate.

 

At least Sif was asleep and would not be witness to this.

 

Staggering into the washroom, Loki made quick work of voiding his bladder, but realized a critical mistake when he pulled his leggings back up. Apparently toilet tissue had a urinary purpose after all, he thought in dismay as he stared at his now damp underthings. Growling, he made quick work of washing his hands and stalked to his closet. Shoving past stacks of books and scrolls, he found an old pair of drawstring sleep pants that he hoped would fit this body well enough, because he was not sleeping naked.

 

Ensconced in bed, he glared at the darkened ceiling. Tomorrow he was locking the door to his rooms and trapping Sif with him until they figured out how to reverse this spell.

 

*

 

In the morning, Loki awoke to himself sitting on his feet and glaring at him. “Aaah!” he shrieked, flailing about under the covers.

 

“Good morning to you, too,” Sif said. Sitting up, Loki threw back the blankets. Sif looked at him through irritated eyes as she said, “Why am I wearing your sleep pants?”

 

“Do you mean why am _I_ wearing my sleep pants?” Pointing to the corner, her attention flickered to her soiled clothes. “There was an incident, and I assumed you would not want me sleeping nude.”

 

“I don’t even want to know,” she said.

 

“Be grateful,” he told her. “I could have exchanged shirts and gotten quite the eyeful of your upper region.”

 

Sitting back on her haunches, Sif said, “You could have. I’d understand, considering I drew a bath yesterday. I was deeply curious about a lot of things.”

 

Flopping back down, Loki covered his eyes with his arm. “Of course you were.”

 

“If you hadn’t left me to my own devices all night, perhaps things would have been different,” she said, poking him in the calf. “Where did you get to? I waited up half the night for you.”

 

“Tavern.”

 

“You didn’t do anything stupid, did you?”

 

“Am I known for causing mischief?”

 

“Loki,” she growled. “What did you do?”

 

“Nothing not equal to you bathing my body.” She responded with silence.

 

Sitting up again, Loki stretched, a foreign feeling in this body. No matter how far he reached, he always fell shy of the mark he was used to attaining. Drawing his arms close, he said, “I find myself in need of new clothing. I can either wear something from my wardrobe, which will send quite the message, or you can retrieve something from you rooms for me to wear, which will also send quite the message. Preference?”

 

Rolling off his feet, Sif splayed out on the edge of Loki’s bed. “Third option: we bar the door and don’t leave your rooms until we right ourselves.”

 

“Mm, a fine idea,” Loki said, “but then you’ll still have to leave wearing my clothes.”

 

She smacked him gently. “I can wash my things in the sink and hang them to dry.”

 

“A practical alternative, but not half so fun,” he murmured, pleased with her dissatisfied hmph. “Please tell me you mastered spellcasting while I was away yesterday.”

 

“Oh, absolutely,” she said. “With a scant few hours of practice, I perfected all the magical arts I’ve never been able to perform.”

 

“You’re in my body, Sif. Surely that should give you a leg up.”

 

“If it did,” she said peevishly, “we would no longer be wearing each other’s faces.”

 

“Speaking of, have I ever told you how adorable it is when you scrunch your nose? I could not stop staring at myself in the mirror as I repeated the action.”

 

She rolled over so her arm was pressed up against his leg. “You won’t feel me up, but you scrunch my nose and comment on its cuteness?” She shook her head. “You are a bizarre man, Loki Odinson.”

 

“I can fondle you if it will make you feel better,” Loki said, lifting one hand to follow through. She grabbed it and pinned it underneath her chest, an action decidedly less pleasant than it would be if she were wearing her own body.

 

“Do it and die.”

 

Loki tsked. “You are amazed I do not _feel you up_ , as you so eloquently put it, but when I offer to follow your advice, you restrain me? How contradictory, Sif.”

 

Propping her chin on her hand (an action that did not look cute so much as like Loki was trying to imitate a woman, which was almost what his body was doing), she said, “Is this what it would be like to wake up with you every morning? Start the day with a verbal sparring match?”

 

“One must keep the mind well oiled.”

 

“Living with you would certainly be a never-ending adventure.”

 

It pleased Loki that Sif was even considering what it would be like to live with him. That was the most progress they’d ever made towards achieving a romantic relationship.

 

Before he could dwell on it and do something stupid like raise his hopes or ruin any chance of it actually happening, Loki crawled out of bed and pushed Sif to get the day started. He had her order breakfast brought to his rooms while he hid in the closet so no one would see him, then ran through his morning exercises while she cleaned her dirtied clothes. After a quick wash up and equally quick breakfast, Loki returned them to his work space. They were going to figure out this spell if it killed them.

 

They spent the morning in fruitless pursuit of their goals. Every time Sif failed to produce the necessary magic, Loki snapped at her, which sparked an argument lasting a minimum of ten minutes before they started over, only to repeat everything. Lunch had come and gone before Sif threw her hands up in frustration. “That’s it!” she announced. “I quit! I would rather live the remainder of my days in your over-sized body than listen to you criticize me one more time for not having mastered a skill I haven’t practiced since I was a youth. And before you say anything asinine, might I remind you that you’re useless in my body? Considering this is the one thing you have talent in, you aren’t contributing much!”

 

That was a low blow. It wasn’t his fault her body seemed to repel magic. “Might I remind you we’re only in this situation in the first place because you interfered with the initial spell?”

 

“We’re not having this argument again.”

 

“On the contrary, it seems we are.”

 

Before the fight could escalate once again, a knock interrupted them. “Thank goodness,” Sif muttered as Loki shouted, “Go away!”

 

“We can’t have anyone see your body in my room dressed like this,” Loki hissed at Sif.

 

“But I can’t be left alone with you, or we’ll have regicide on our hands,” she hissed back.

 

“As I’m not a king, it doesn’t qualify as regicide.”

 

“Princeicide,” she said snidely.

 

The knock came again, and Loki and Sif got into a short tussle on the way to the door. Though Sif’s body obviously had superior strength and training, with Loki at the helm, his inexperience gave him a disadvantage and Sif made short work of dropping him so she could answer the door. Lying on the floor gasping for breath, Loki was greeted by the sight of his mother, looking mildly surprised at what she supposed was Sif, wearing Loki’s clothes and rolling on the floor, struggling to breathe.

 

“Not what I was expecting to find,” Frigga said.

 

Pointing an accusatory finger at his body, Loki wheezed out, “Monster.”

 

“What did you do, my son?” Frigga said disapprovingly.

 

“Put my superior strength and intelligence to good use to dominate and enslave Sif,” Sif said without missing a beat.

 

“Oh, you’re a fancy liar,” Loki said, his air intake slowly returning to normal.

 

“The world must know I think I’m better than you in every way,” Sif said sweetly.

 

Frigga clucked her tongue in disapproval. “Your vanity is not a becoming trait,” she said, moving deeper into the room. “Sif has always been your dear friend; you ought to treat her as such.”

 

“Yes, Mother, I find you are correct,” Sif said, a gleam in her eyes. “From this day forth, I vow to honor Sif as she deserves, and shall devote many hours to ensuring all of Asgard knows she is a superior warrior and woman. All who know me shall know her, too.”

 

Frigga looked unimpressed. “Your lies do not deceive your mother.”

 

“I’m being sincere,” Sif said. “Sif is a magnificent creature, and I’d be remiss to say otherwise. She’s an excellent student, you know. Even when faced with a cranky old mentor who cannot do more than shout at her that she’s a miserable wretch not worthy to lick the mud off the boot of a field worker, still she persists in trying her hand at impossible magic. She’s an inspiration to us all.”

 

“Oh, do stop it,” Loki said, rolling himself into a sitting position. “You’ve made your point.”

 

“Have I?” Sif asked evenly, leveling a look at him as she crossed her arms in a most feminine manner.

 

Standing, Loki put himself to rights before facing Sif. With a sweeping bow, he said, “I do apologize for expecting more of you than you can give. I should have tempered my expectations with the reality of your talent.”

 

“You’re an ass,” Sif said.

 

“Unparalleled.”

 

A quick clap of hands reminded Loki he and Sif were not alone. As one they turned to face Frigga, deep contentment painted on her face. “I came to discuss the nature of your relationship,” she said, “but I find things not as they should be. Tell me, did you perform the body swap intentionally or by accident?”

 

“Accident,” they answered together.

 

“Before or after your kissed?”

 

“Before.”

 

Frigga made a noise of interest as she paced about the two, carefully inspecting both of them. Loki stood as straight and tall as Sif’s body allowed him. Sif, too, was standing tall, though she appeared ill at ease, though whether it was from the scrutiny or from Frigga knowing their plight, it was not readily apparent.

 

“Tell me, my son,” Frigga said, her eyes flickering towards Loki, “were you dabbling in magic beyond your ken, or was there some other outside force involved?”

 

Loki huffed. “The magic was perfectly in my skill set, but Sif interfered with a hand to my shoulder, resulting in this madness.”

 

“More than a touch is required for a spell to misfire this badly,” Frigga said. Sif’s eyes lit up with glee.

 

“I knew this was your fault,” she said smugly.

 

“I maintain it was your distraction that resulted in our predicament,” Loki said.

 

“Your mother just indicated--”

 

“Sif, my dear,” Frigga said, looking up into Sif’s eyes, “do have a care with what you say. It was not entirely Loki’s fault, and his reticence at explaining the particulars should warn you it might be a touchy issue--that, or something you would find distasteful.”

 

Loki forgot, sometimes, that his observational prowess came from his mother. She always seemed to know more than she let on; he wondered just how much the Allmother knew about his feelings. Even so, it was satisfying to see Sif put in her place.

 

With as few words as possible, Loki related the tale of their misadventures, glossing over anything he didn’t want his mother dwelling on, including him telling Thor and the Goonies Three that Sif was a bit in love with him.

 

At the conclusion of his telling, Frigga said, “Well, my children, I suggest you sort this out before meeting with Odin. He is somewhat out of sorts with regards to your suddenly public romance. A unified front will serve you well when facing him.”

 

“Why should it concern the Allfather whom I choose to kiss?” Sif demanded.

 

“Why indeed,” Frigga responded, looking at Loki. “I shall leave you two to sort out your troubles. Do send word if you haven’t managed it before nightfall.” She made for the door, but a suddenly panicked Sif threw out an arm, stopping her.

 

“You’re the greatest sorceress in the realm!” Sif exclaimed. “Surely you can offer aid.”

 

Frigga shook her hand, placing a gentle hand on Sif’s arm. “Only you and Loki may sort out this tangle. I would only be in the way.” She lightly touched Sif’s cheek--again, Loki was struck with how peculiar this out-of-body experience was--before sweeping from the room.

 

Loki offered Sif his hand, palm up. “Truce?” he asked.

 

“You’re the one being impossible.”

 

“You’re no picnic yourself, my lady.”

 

Sif considered his hand a moment before clasping it with her own. His own. The body swap was starting to mess with his head. “Let us get back to work,” she said. “I have responsibilities I need to see to, as I’m sure you do, as well.”

 

Their newfound good humor lasted all of an hour before they reverted back to sniping at each other. In a moment of frustration, Loki threatened to shear her head, to which she snapped that it wouldn’t be the first time. He left her to her own devices after that while he took up residence in his bed for a nap.

 

His dreams were strange and disjointed, leaving him feeling unsettled when he awoke.

 

A percussive bang exploded from his living room, followed by the sound of fluttering paper. Leaping from the bed, Loki flew through the doorway to find his outer room in disarray, papers littered all over. In the center of the chaos, Sif sat on her rear, legs stretched out straight before her, looking stunned. Grass clippings were scattered about the floor next to her. “What in Odin’s good name did you do?” he asked, taking in the scene.

 

“I experimented,” she said, sounding a bit dazed. “I can recreate the circumstances around our spell, but have yet to master the spell itself.”

 

“But you cast magic,” Loki said excitedly, stepping into the room. “You cast a complex spell.”

 

“It blew up,” she said.

 

“So did our spell. You’ve almost got it, Sif!”

 

A pleased smile crept up on her face. “I did a good thing,” she said, then promptly passed out, hitting the ground with a thud.

 

Of course.

 

Retrieving pillows from his bed, Loki did his best to make his body comfortable, then sat down to wait for Sif to wake up. Glancing casually at her face--his face, really--his attention was arrested as he almost didn’t recognize himself. For obvious reasons, he’d never seen himself asleep before, and the relaxed position of his face was foreign to him. Leaning in, Loki stared intently at the relaxed muscles of his face. He looked--dare he say it?--peaceful. “I don’t look like me,” he murmured, his eyes passing over his eyes, nose, and mouth.

 

His body’s eyes flew open, and Sif screamed. It startled Loki into leaping back. “Were you trying to kiss me while I was passed out?” Sif demanded. “Oh, why am I so cold? I think I need to lie down.”

 

“You are lying down,” Loki said, attempting to reclaim his dignity. “And you’re cushioned by pillows. You’re welcome.”

 

“Don’t pretend those are for me; you’re just trying to keep your precious body safe.”

 

With a roll of his eyes, Loki said, “I can be concerned for you and my body at the same time.”

 

“Out of context, that is a strange thing to say,” Sif said, bringing her hands up to rub at her eyes. “Did something happen? Did you kiss me?”

 

Loki scooted a bit closer. From his expert medical standpoint, Sif seemed to be just fine, which was a relief, because he was not above exacting revenge in retaliation for damaging his body. “You’re strangely obsessed with the idea of me kissing you,” he said. “Any latent desires we’ve failed to share with the class?”

 

“I think I can perform the spell,” she said, completely ignoring his comment. “I’m having a moment of clarity, and if we do it right now, it’ll be successful.”

 

Putting an arm on her shoulder, Loki did his best to restrain Sif. “Absolutely not,” he said sternly. “We are not attempting a spell while you are half witless. I will never forgive you if you damage my body or my mind in any way.”

 

She looked at him pleadingly, which was not half so effective as it would have been in her own body. “Don’t you want to switch back? I promise I can do it.”

 

“Sif, no. I am not willing to risk my safety--or yours--just to return to my body. If you can truly perform the spell now, you’ll still be able to do it when your head clears.”

 

“Nope,” she said, shaking her head quickly, which must not have been pleasant for she suddenly ceased with a groan. “Trust me, Loki; it’s a now or never sort of thing.” She attempted sitting up, but Loki’s arm on her shoulder proved an effective barrier. “Get off me, Odinson,” she said coolly, “and let me up. I can fix our problem.”

 

“No,” he said calmly, putting more pressure on her shoulder. “Take care of my body first.”

 

“Let me switch it back, and you can take care of it yourself.”

 

“That would be just like you, to inflict pain upon my person then walk away and leave me to deal with it.”

 

“You’ve just got so much experience with taking a hit,” she said sweetly, which sounded odd coming out of his mouth. “Let me up, Loki.”

 

“No.”

 

They engaged in another scuffle; Loki quickly realized that Sif was stronger than him no matter what body she was wearing, and he had a devil of a time keeping her down, despite having the so-called high ground. “Stay down,” he growled through clenched teeth. Refusing to yield, she pushed back harder, almost rising off the floor. “Stay put or I _will_ kiss you,” he threatened. The fight fell right out of her as she stared at him.

 

“Is that a threat?” she asked, “because it is not having the desired effect.”

 

“What, you actually want me to kiss you?”

 

She hesitated just long enough before responding that he wasn’t sure if she meant yes or no. “Fine,” she said, her hands slipping into her pockets. She couldn’t actually want him to kiss her, could she? That was hopeful dreaming on Loki’s part, completely one-sided. Sif fancied Thor.

 

But she hadn’t pushed Thor against a wall and kissed him in public.

 

And it wasn’t Thor she was arguing with over a kiss.

 

Loki’s heart started pounding rapidly, blood rushing in his ears. Involuntarily, he leaned towards Sif. She closed her eyes. Just another few inches and--

 

Another percussive blow hit Loki, and he found himself lying on his back, staring at the ceiling as stars danced before his eyes. Something hurt, and he was afraid if he moved, he’d discover it was everything. “What the hell did you do?” he demanded, then froze. That was his own voice. Lifting one of his hands, Loki noted the long masculine fingers. Calling to mind a water illusion, he danced a stream of water between his fingers, the movement graceful and smooth. Magic rushed through him, filling his being in a way nothing physical could. He was back in his own body.

 

Sif’s face hovered over his, bearing a wide smile. “You were touching my shoulder, I had grass in my pocket, and you were being obstinate about letting me have a go. So I did it without your permission.”

 

“Sif, you beautiful creature,” Loki murmured, dropping his water illusion. “That was incredibly dangerous and you could have gotten us both killed. Next time, _recover first_.”

 

She bit her lip, her eyes dancing merrily. “I like how you assume there will be a next time. Two days as Loki Odinson is more than enough to last a lifetime.”

 

“Being Lady Sif was no picnic either.”

 

“If there is a next time, please make sure it coincides with my monthlies. That’s an education for Loki Odinson I’d pay all my money to see.”

 

Loki made a face. “There will never be a next time,” he said fervently.

 

They sat in silence a moment, both reveling in the feel of being in their own bodies. As soon as he was alone, Loki planned to strip and make sure Sif didn’t permanently mar his body in any way. He also wished to go for a loping run. He’d missed his long gait. I will never take you for granted again, he thought fondly.

 

At length, Loki sat up, running a hand through his hair. His head still felt a bit thick due to whatever spell Sif had misfired, but the pain was worth it if it meant being in his own skin. Turning to face Sif, he said, “You don’t have to come with me to face Odin. I can handle that battle on my own.”

 

She hummed in agreement. It was so lovely to look at her again.

 

Getting to his feet, Loki offered Sif a hand up. He had many things to attend to, the first of which was to clean up the grass mess Sif had left for him. “It’s been a delight, Lady Sif,” he said, “but now we must return to our lives.”

 

“You make it sound like this is the end of our friendship,” Sif scoffed. “You won’t be rid of me that easily, Loki.”

 

“No, I suppose not,” he sighed. “Dreadful, really; I’d so been looking forward to the peace of not having my lips attacked while marching about Asgard.”

 

She pursed her lips. “Have you now?” she purred, slinking to his side. Without warning, she grabbed his face, pressing her lips against his. Wasting no time, Loki wrapped his arms around her and returned her kiss, all thoughts flying out of his head as he got lost in the moment, enjoying the delectable woman in his arms.

 

“Mm,” she murmured when she pulled back. “You in control of your own lips is so much more satisfying.”

 

“Being an excellent kisser is my one skill,” he informed her.

 

Stepping out of his embrace, she tapped him once on the nose. “A random sampling over time might be necessary to validate that statement,” she told him, smiling coquettishly.

 

“All in the name of science,” Loki said with a world-weary sigh. Her smile deepened into something that made his stomach drop pleasantly.

 

“I’ll see you around,” she said, making for the door.

 

Loki raised his hand to call after her--she needed to know what Thor and the Three thought of them--then lowered it as she cast him a last look over her shoulder. She could discover that on her own; no need to take all the fun out of life.

 

He, meanwhile, needed to prepare to meet with his father. That was going to be a fun conversation, though perhaps a different one than previously anticipated.

 

Idly tracing his lips with his finger, he smiled.

  
  
  
**  
End  
**


End file.
